


things can only get better

by bry0psida



Series: 12 Days Of Harringrove [12]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Dissociation, Getting to Know Each Other, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, One Shot, Pining, Pre-Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:08:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22113874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bry0psida/pseuds/bry0psida
Summary: Billy's heading back to Hawkins for winter break when his car kicks it. Steve Harrington, asshole that he is, comes to the rescue.
Series: 12 Days Of Harringrove [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1580533
Comments: 2
Kudos: 37





	things can only get better

**Author's Note:**

> Title is a Howard Jones song.

The engine groans. Billy can hear it cranking but the damn thing won’t start. “C’mon baby, don’t flake out on me now, don’t make me take the train.” Billy pleads to no avail. He hits the steering wheel and curses the world.

Billy knew better than to just leave her in a parking lot, she always gets tricky in the winter. He meant to find some storage for the worst of it, there’s more than enough public transport in the city he can go a month or three without the car, he just…spent all his money on drugs and booze, okay? He’s a teenager away from home for the first time, it’s to be expected.

It’s fine. He’ll just get the shitty train and take a lot of cold walks when he’s stuck back in Hawkins without a car.

Billy folds his arms on top of the wheel, rests his forehead on his forearms, groans. He stays like that a while, mind racing, thinking of all the ways not having a car is going to make Neil that much worse when it’s harder to get away.

There’s a knock on his window, two taps. Billy startles, looks up. Sees Steve Harrington's stupid fucking hair and his stupider face frowning at Billy through the glass. Billy rolls down the window.

“What?” He spits out.

Steve’s brow unfurrows, rises instead. “Jeez, who pissed in your Cheerios?”

“Fuck off, Harrington.”

Steve holds his hands up. “I just wanted to see if you’re ok, you’ve been sitting there a while.”

“I’m peachy, now fuck off.”

Steve ignores him, nods at the hood. “Want me to take a look?”

“I can look at my own damn car,”

“I’m already here, might as well.”

Billy wants to say no but he knows it’s a waste of breath. Steve helps people even when they don’t want him to, quickest way to shift him is to go along with it. “Fine.”

Steve pops the hood. “It’s just the cold, you know.” Billy says.

“Probably. Try and start it?” Billy does. Nothing happens. He turns the key again, again, again. More nothing. “You turning the key?”

Billy snaps. “Yes, I’m turning the fucking key!” He climbs out, slams the door behind him, shoves Steve out of the way to get a look at what he’s working with.

“This happened before?” Steve asks. Billy doesn’t answer, just pokes around. The ignition coil isn’t loose, nothing’s leaking. It all looks normal.

“You have a car jack?”

“Not on me. Why?”

“Might be the fuel filter,”

“The engine would do something if it was just the fuel filter. Has this happened before?”

Billy doesn’t want to have this conversation. It’s embarrassing enough Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington knows more about mechanics than Billy does. He doesn’t need Steve coming to the rescue and fixing his Camaro so he can lord it over Billy later.

“Ugh, yes. Why?”

“Engine been stalling?”

“Yes,”

“Lights been dimmer?”

“Yeah,”

“You been cranking the engine over and over when it won’t start?”

“…Maybe.”

“It’s probably your battery, dude.”

“God _fucking_ damn it,” Billy digs his cigarettes out of his jacket, lights up.

Steve claps Billy on the shoulder like they’re friends, like this is a _thing_ they do. “It’s no sweat man, you can get a new one and have it fitted same day.”

Billy wants to laugh, so he does. Stupid rich boy. “You think I have that kind of money lying around?”

“Is it the service charge? I could fit it.”

“I barely have enough money to pay for gas to drive back, let alone a new battery on top of that.”

“Then I’ll loan it to you,”

Thanks, but no fucking thanks. The day Billy Hargrove owes anyone anything is the day hell freezes over. “I don’t do loans.”

“Then I’ll pay,”

“Don’t do fucking charity, either.”

Steve closes the hood and lights his own cigarette. “So what’re you going to do?”

“Get the train back,”

“And leave your fussy car in a parking lot through winter? You want it to be completely fucked when you get back?”

Billy flicks away his dead cigarette, lights another. “Not like I can afford a fucking tow, Steve.”

“I know, but I can.”

Billy exhales, adds his own cloud of smoke to an overcast sky. “I don’t need your money.”

Steve sighs. “Fine, be stubborn. Offer still stands whenever you decide to stop being an asshole and let someone help you for once.” Billy doesn’t watch him storm away.

…

Billy’s out of options. No one else is willing to lend him enough cash to sort out this clusterfuck and he can’t stall leaving another day, not if he doesn’t want the shit beaten out of him for being home late.

It takes about half a pack of Camels and three shots of whiskey for Billy to muster up enough humility to trudge his way to Steve’s dorm room. Billy’s pretty sure Steve was meant to leave the same day Billy was, can’t ignore the thought that Steve stayed ‘cause he knew this would happen.

Billy raps his knuckles on the door. It takes Steve under a minute to answer. “Oh, hi,” He says, suitcase in hand. “I was just on my way out.” He’s wrapped up for the cold, got a matching scarf and gloves.

“I need-“ Billy pauses, stares at the carpet underneath his boots. Steve doesn’t make him say it, just opens the door to his dorm a little wider. “Come in, you can call the tow and I’ll make coffee.”

…

Billy calls the tow, feels a lurch in his chest when they tell him how much it’s gonna cost. There’s an acrid taste in his mouth when he hangs up, the cloying flavour of fear and shame. Billy knows it well.

Steve doesn’t ask how much it’s gonna be, just sets their cups down on the coffee table, turns on the tv and asks how long they need to wait. Billy tells him half an hour, settles by the window that has a view of the parking lot.

They follow the tow to the garage in Steve’s car. The mechanic in charge, Mac, has bad news, there’s a _lot_ more wrong with Billy’s girl than just the dead battery. Billy stops paying attention to what he’s saying after that. At first Billy’s mind spirals, running through all the worst case scenarios his car being out of commission will lead to, all starring Neil. Then it just…stops, slows down.

Mac is still talking. Billy can _hear_ just fine, but it’s not being processed, can’t really focus on anything but the spaced out feeling in his head. This happens sometimes when Neil chooses to whisper his belittlement instead of scream it or hit him, or Billy’s panicking and he can’t express that. It’s not always a bad feeling. This is definitely a bad time, though.

Time gets a little funny when Billy’s like this, it just loses all meaning. He has a vague grasp of it, knows someone should be trying to get his attention by now, but they’re not, so Billy floats, disappears inside himself to that hollow numb place.

Steve steps into Billy’s field of vision, waves a hand in front of his face. Billy forces his eyes to focus, tries to concentrate on the words Steve is saying.

“…ok?”

“What?”

Steve looks worried. He bites a glove off and presses the back of his lukewarm hand to Billy’s forehead. Billy’s too out of it to care.

“I said are you ok?”

“Oh,”

“Well?”

“I don’t know,”

“Do you feel sick?”

He doesn’t, but it’s a much more plausible answer than _I just disappear inside myself sometimes and I don’t know how I find my way back._ “A little.”

Steve slips his glove back on, lips pressed together, anxious. “Alright. Well they’re gonna fix your car over break and hold onto it till we get back. When do you need to leave?”

Billy thinks. “Tomorrow.”

“I’ll drive you,”

Billy’s inclined to just agree with him. He’s not so out of it he’s forgotten why it’s a bad idea to let Steve do anything more for him. “Train.”

Steve has this sad little look on his face. It takes Billy a minute longer than usual to decipher it. Pity. Or sympathy. Or both.

“You can barely speak in full sentences, I’m driving you.”

Steve gets a hand on Billy’s mid back, presses gently and urges him forwards. Billy goes where Steve guides him.

It all blurs together. Billy doesn’t protest when Steve sits him down on the couch or when he takes his boots off. He lets Steve lay him down and drape a blanket over him.

…

Billy doesn’t sleep. He just waits. Waits to feel his feet on the ground, not just know they’re there. It’s dark out when the world starts making sense again. The curtains are open, the lights are off in the room but the tv is on, volume almost all the way down. Billy sits up, stretches, feels his shoulders pop from being curled up so long. The blanket pools in his lap.

“Harrington?”

“In here,” Steve calls from the kitchen.

Billy walks in, squints at how bright the light is after keeping his eyes shut for so long. Steve is bustling about the kitchen, he stops what he’s doing when Billy walks in.

“Feeling better?” Steve asks, concern all over his face.

“Yeah,” Billy clears his throat, embarrassment settling in now he’s processing what Steve’s witnessed. “‘M sorry, won’t happen again.”

Steve looks a little incredulous. “Dude, you don’t need to apologise for getting sick. It’s ok.” Billy nods at Steve, then turns to leave. Steve reaches out for him, drops his hand when Billy’s eyes dart towards it. “Where are you going?”

“…Back to my room?”

“Are you sure you should be alone right now?”

“I’ll be fine, Harrington. I’m a big boy now.”

Steve doesn’t look convinced. “Humor me?”

Truthfully, Billy doesn’t want to go back to his lonely dorm room. He doesn’t want to be alone right now. Even if his only option for company is Harrington. He doesn’t want Steve to figure that out, though. So he does what he always does, cracks a joke.

“Damn, Harrington. Didn’t realise you like having me around so much you’d risk illness.”

“…I do, you know.” Steve’s cheeks warm up, the hint of a blush.

“You do what?”

“I do like having you around. Even if you are a giant asshole.”

Billy wants to shove him, knows he shouldn’t. He doesn’t like the look Steve’s got in his eyes, it’s too familiar, assumes too much. “Didn’t know you were such a fan of assholes.”

“I’m not. Just you.”

These jokes don’t work on Steve, not since high school. Billy doesn’t have a better defence mechanism that isn’t violence or sex, and those two most certainly don’t apply in this context. Billy’s eyes desperately comb the room for a distraction, land on the pan of water sitting on the stovetop.

“You cooking?”

“I was about to,”

“What’s for dinner?” Billy doesn’t realise how presumptuous that sounds till Steve looks at him, hopeful.

“You staying?”

“I’m humoring you, remember?”

“I was gonna make pasta. I don’t really have anything else. Do you like pasta?”

Billy will eat anything. “Sure.”

Steve makes a face. “Damn, I hate the stuff. Was hoping you’d give me an excuse to order pizza.”

“Just order a pizza, man. You’re more than good for it.”

That’s all the encouragement Steve needs to dump the water down the sink and grab the takeout menu from one of the kitchen drawers. “Fuck it, why not.” He slides it across the counter to Billy, then pulls the phone off the hook. “What do you want?”

Billy cannot afford pizza. Not on top of all the money he owes Steve now. “I’m really not hungry.” His stomach chooses that moment to groan and convulse around nothing.

Steve rolls his eyes. “Uh huh. I’ll just pick for you.”

…

Steve gets two pizzas from a local joint Billy’s not heard of. He also orders them garlic bread, fries, shakes, even brownies. He waves Billy off when he tries to pay, turns the tv up every time Billy says _I’ll pay you back, promise._

They lay out the boxes of food on the table. Steve opens the little wooden box nestled amongst the cardboard containers, whips out a fat joint, holds it up with a confident smile. Billy just digs his lighter out of his pocket. They smoke the joint right down to the filter and eat till their stomachs hurt, till there’s nothing left but pizza crusts and burnt fries and brownie crumbs.

The A-Team is on in the background, Billy’s not paying attention. He’s more focused on Steve. His arms are spread along the back of the couch, legs splayed open. His head is tipped back, eyes shut and his mouth is hanging open slightly, breathing real slow.

He’s a sight for sore eyes. Billy never lets himself look. Doesn’t let himself want what he can’t have, pushes Steve away ‘cause Billy _knows_ he’s at the very least curious, at the very most queer. Tells himself he can have that again once he’s back in California, when it’s easy to find and not such a fight to hold on to.

Steve must feel Billy’s gaze. His eyes slide open slow, his head lolls to face Billy. His smile is lazy and relaxed. He looks stoned as shit. Billy’s not much better considering he still hasn’t looked away.

“Whatcha lookin’ at?” Steve asks, voice light.

Billy licks his dry lips. “You, pretty boy.”

Steve huffs a laugh, slaps Billy lightly on the arm. “Shut up.”

Billy’s not much of a talker when he’s stoned, anyway. His inhibitions have a habit of flying out the window, so he keeps looking. Steve holds his gaze for a while, longer than is necessary or appropriate for two people who aren’t really friends getting baked.

…

Billy closes the trunk on Steve’s beemer, softer than he closes his own. Steve leans out the window, catches Billy’s eyes in the wing mirror.

“You got everything?”

“Yup,”

“You’re sure?”

Billy rolls his eyes. “Yes. Stop fussing.”

He walks around the car. Steve opens the door for him from the inside. Billy slides in, slings his bag into the backseat. Steve waits till Billy’s seatbelt is buckled before starting the car. He fiddles with the radio till he lands on a rock station. Billy looks at him.

“I didn’t know you liked rock,”

“I don’t,”

“Then why are we listening to it?”

“Because you do,” Steve says it like it’s obvious. Maybe it is, now Billy thinks about it. Steve’s kind, always doing something for someone. Yesterday morning Billy found it annoying. Now it’s…it’s something. Something nice and warm.

Steve doesn’t complain when Billy butchers Purple Rain, laughs at Billy’s stupid air guitar, even looks something close to impressed when Billy _almost_ hits the falsetto before his voice cuts out altogether.

There’s not a lot of traffic on the road, probably gonna cut the journey in half with how clear it is. Billy tries not to analyze why the prospect of the drive being over bothers him.

They don’t talk all that much. Billy sings along to glam rock and shouts along to some metal, Steve bobs his head to songs Billy knows he can’t stand but is tolerating anyway.

It’s a good time. Steve’s not bad company after all.

They reach Hawkins half an hour earlier than Billy expected. Billy represses a groan as they pull up to Neil’s house.

“This was fun,” Steve says, smile a little shy. “We should drive around and listen to music again.”

“I need you to drive me back, so there’s that.”

“I meant before that. Maybe after, too.”

“I’d be up for that,”

Steve lights up. “Yeah?”

Billy nods. “Yeah.”

They both get out of the car, Steve gets Billy’s suitcase out of the trunk. “Will I see you before Christmas?”

“Sure, why not.”

“And New Years?”

“You can count on it.”

“Alright then.”

Billy watches Steve drive away, waves back when Steve sticks a hand out the window.

Maybe winter break won’t be so bad after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so done with daily posting y'all. I'm beyond glad it's over I am exhausted.
> 
> The content has undoubtedly been suffering as a result of the deadlines so now those are donezo I want to say you can expect a sharp increase in quality of what comes out in future but I'm not confident enough to say it's Definitely gonna be better. A boy can hope.
> 
> Next thing to come will be the final chapter of 25 ways, then I'm finishing Snowed In, and then who knows! I have so many ideas and AU's in my notes I'm not sure where to start, but there's a lot more to come.


End file.
